


Late Night Chivalry

by Winchester_with_Wings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action, Angst, Avengers - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Marvel - Freeform, Mugging, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Spider-Man - Freeform, commission, platonic, request, trigger warning: mugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 16:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_with_Wings/pseuds/Winchester_with_Wings
Summary: Anon Commissioned :  A fluff Peter ParkerxReader 1.5k words. Sumthin like Peter and you been really good friends (you know his secret) and he ends up savin you from gettin mugged as you’re walkin home from hangin out with him earlier that night and he comforts you cuz of how scared you were and just him bein the little sweetie pie he normally is. Take as much liberty as you want, I just want sweet and savory feelins after intense action. I’ll donate on kofi, knows it’s me from the signature





	Late Night Chivalry

**Author's Note:**

> Anon paid for only 1.5k but the story wanted to be longer :) That’s on me and I’m happy with the result :)

**Trigger Warning:**  harassment, potential assault, mugging, language

Between binge-watching Netflix and a few video game sessions, you and Peter still managed to work on a school project. Just like any other Saturday night for you nerds.

It’s past midnight when your eyes finally feel heavy with exhaustion. Peter catches you dozing once or twice, your legs tangled in his blankets on the bottom bunk of his bunk bed.

“I should go,” you say, rolling off the bed and nearly falling to the floor. Peter chuckles and groans. He hangs from the top bunk, his feet hooked on the rails so that he can dangle upside down while he watches you collect your things, stuffing textbooks and papers into your bag with no regard.

“You sure you don’t want to stay here tonight? I’ll give you the top bunk” he offers.

“As  _nice_  as that sounds, Pete, I gotta get home. Mom and I are making pancakes tomorrow morning. You know how important that is to her…”

“Yeah,” Peter shrugs with a frown well aware of your current home situation. He cared for you mom as much as his own Aunt May. You had grown up living in the same building as Peter ever since he came to live with his Aunt May. After your parents’ divorce, you and your mom had had to move; both he and May had felt the loss of their friends and neighbors.

“Still…I wish you didn’t have to go.” Peter starts climbing along the wall and up to the ceiling. He does it so casually around you now that you’d known his secret for a year or so now. He starts dangling from the ceiling. His apparent desire to stall your retreat has you taking a seat and munching on some cheetos. “Hey, remember when your mom and May would let us have sleepovers?”

“Yeah, and remember how they stopped letting us do that when we were each other’s first kiss. You really think they’ll let us have a sleepover as teenagers? What with having gone through puberty?” you roll your eyes. Your mention of your shared first kiss carried no awkwardness with it.

“Yeah. Puberty was pretty rough on you too, huh?” Peter teases and you throw a cheeto at him. He catches it in his mouth and chews. You can’t imagine how he manages to chew and swallow while upside down. “I’m kidding. You know what I think of you.” Your blush is faint and barely noticeable. Having grown up together, the two of you had entertained the notion of dating once or twice. The timing was never really right and luckily it hadn’t affected your friendship. “I just worry about you. That’s why I don’t want you to go. I don’t like that you live so far away now.”

“I know, but that’s how it is now, Petey. Mom couldn’t keep the apartment when Dad left. We  _had_  to move away.” You roll up the bag of cheetos and set it aside. Shirking on your backpack, you look like you’re ready to leave. You tug on Peter’s shirt to make him drop from the ceiling; you didn’t tug hard…like it’s not like you yanked him from the ceiling…it was more like a tug on a rope to signal your descent…he knew what you meant.

“Then maybe we shouldn’t be doing these late nights anymore,” he suggested, straightening out his clothes and hair.

“If you don’t want me hanging around anymore, Peter, just say so,” you tease, always only half joking.

“No! That’s not it at all! I just don’t like the idea of you walking home alone.”

“Don’t worry. I have pepper spray. Dad gave it to me…before I went on my first date.” You tap Peter on the nose. He sighs.

“Oh, I thought you were going to say that’s what he gave you before he left.”

“Well that’s just sad and mean. No, he got me a new cell phone that day.”

“Ouch.” Peter slings his arms around your shoulders. Talking to him about your dad, someone who’d decided to leave with little regard for yourself or your mother, wasn’t such a heavy burden with Peter. You could tell him anything and he’d understand the serious undertone at the same time as he’d try to make things better. That’s one of the things you loved about him. “Just promise me, you’ll be safe and use that new cell phone to call me when you get home?”

“Of course! The new place is just three blocks away from the train station.”

Peter slips his feet into a pair of sneakers. “Okay…just let me walk you out, at least.”

* * *

Peter probably went out on a nightly patrol as Spider-man when you left. You didn’t think much of it. You didn’t worry for him as much as he’d seemed worried for you. But why should he worry? You’d grown up in this city–granted you’re in a new neighborhood but hey! Spider-man had made it a safer neighborhood, right?

The train ride was short and uneventful. You weren’t the only one there. Maybe a few older teens, a nurse on her way home, an old lady with a paper grocery bag (at this time of night? Sure why not?). You kept to yourself–obviously–and thought nothing of your short commute home until you were off the train.

You assume the four men at the stop are waiting to board the train you’ve just exited. You give it no passing thought. But when you start heading down the street, away from the platform, the muffled sound of their voices alerts you to the fact that they never did board the train. You hope they’re heading somewhere else but what are the chances?

“Hey, baby!” one of them calls out. You ignore them, pretend you have headphones in and you can’t hear them.

“Hey sweet thing! Hold up!” another one of them shouts. You can’t pretend you didn’t hear that. They say so themselves. You bring your backpack in front of you, opening the pockets to search for your house keys. The pepper spray is a keychain. Why didn’t you walk home with this already in hand? Because you were delusional to think you’d be safe after midnight in Queens? As your fingers curl around the key ring, you hear the heavy footsteps rushing towards you.

“Hey babe, why not answering us? You got somewhere better to be?”

They start to circle you, even as you press forward.

“Leave me alone,” you protest in an even voice, despite the fear and adrenaline rushing through you.

“Nah, you can’t just walk away. You just got off the train right? You gotta pay the toll.”

“What are you? Freaking trolls that live under a bridge? Leave me alone!” You stand up for yourself, shoving past one of the men and brandishing your pepper spray. They curse at you, lunge for you and grab at your backpack. You hold onto it out of instinct. The only thing worth  _anything_  in there is just your wallet. Why are you fighting for it? Defiance in the face of weakness, that’s why.

They get too close to you, overpowering you, one of them holding you back while the other two wrassle away your backpack. You yank your arm free just for a moment and aim your pepper spray at the closest man.

“Ah!! SHIT!” he yells, letting go of your bag. His friends are startled enough to loosen their hold on you and your belongings. You grab them and run. Just one more block! You tell yourself and your pounding heart.

“Get back here bitch!” one of them shouts. A quick glance over your shoulder and you think you see the glint of light bouncing off a blade.

“Hey! That’s no way to talk to a lady!” someone else shouts.

You’re stomach sinks–both with relief and fear.

Someone’s coming to help you.

But you know that voice.

You hide behind a bus shelter and finally turn around to look for your assailants. Right away, the whimpering man whose face is red and streaked with tears…he’s taken care of. His hands are still covering his face as he tries to relieve the pain. Instead, Spider-man’s webbing covers his face and hands, effectively gluing them together.

Spider-man swings in and rams into the same guy, knocking him off balance and into a wall. The other two, they turn to face the brave teenaged Avenger.

“You’re far from your turf, bugboy!” one of them growls as he lunges for Spider-man. He jumps out of the way and onto the side of a building. He shoots twice from wrists. The man is knocked off balance by his near miss and Spider-man is able to stick one foot and one hand to the ground.

“This is my neighborhood too. I can’t have you going around and mugging people!” Spider-man…Peter…jumps off the side of the building and lands a few feet from the third assailant. He stands up at his full height with his shoulders tall and chest out. “And I definitely can’t have you attacking my friends.”

Contrary to his usual style, Peter runs at the man straight on.

“No! He’s got a knife!” you shout. It doesn’t seem to register or matter to him. Peter is stronger than he looks. He tries to punch the guy but he blocks it and tries to restrain him with his webbing. But the mugger uses his knife in his other hand to cut the webbing and break free.

“Spider-freak!” The man shouts as he swipes at Peter. Peter jumps back, seemingly avoiding the blade. But you see his hand rush to his abdomen. He’s hurt! And he’s distracted enough that the mugger lands a few punches to lay Peter out on the floor. “Spider-man? You’re just a loser kid. Now get out of here!”

“No,” Peter groans, struggling to get up. The mugger sets his sights on you. You’re frozen, unsure of whether to run to Peter or to run for safety.

“Peter,” you whisper, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“Karen! Taser web! High voltage!” Peter shouts and his suit responds. Peter extends his left arm and his webshooters let loose. The taser web fires in two strands and hits your would-be attacker in the back. The man loses his voice as he tries to cry out at the pain of voltage surging through him. He convulses and drops to the ground. Another release of his normal webbing and the mugger’s is stuck to the pavement.

Peter collapses too.

* * *

You’re supporting Spider-man’s weight as you take him home with you. He’s keeping his hand on his side and you’re concerned at even the slightest sight of blood.

“Peter, you idiot. Why did you do that?” you hiss, tears are running down your cheeks despite your best effort to keep calm.

“Idiot? Didn’t I save you?”

“Yeah, but…now you’re hurt! How did you even know?”

Despite his condition, the two of you are quiet as you enter your apartment building and head for your front door. Your mom is working a night shift. She’ll be home soon, just in time for breakfast.

“Um…I was following you…obviously. Like I said, I was worried about you,” Peter admits as you bring him inside and towards your bedroom.

You urge him to sit on your bed. You try to make him lie down so you can look at his wound.

“Stop fussing, Nurse Y/N. I’m fine. I’ll heal.” He even says this just as he uses some of his webbing as a bandage. You jab at his shoulder.

“Of course I won’t stop fussing! You scared me half to death! I was so worried about you getting hurt, Pete!” Your body is tensing up, the adrenaline in your veins dying off and bringing you back to the verge of exhaustion. Your knees feel like they’re about to give up but you feel like you can only muster enough strength to scold your friend for risking his life.

Peter pulls off his mask and taps his chest to loosen his suit; it pools around his waist where he’s sitting. You can see the bruises beginning to form on his cheek and stomach, and again the large gash in his side from the knife currently bandaged with spiderwebs.

He tugs on your hand and makes you sit on your bed beside him.

“Are you alright? Are you sure?” he asks you. You nod but it only takes another second before you start hyperventilating and shaking. “Oh geez,” he sighs and wraps his arms around you. “Don’t worry. I’m here for you.”

“The way they came after me…and then…” you gasp, “then you showed up and I was so scared for you. Peter…I know you’re Spider-man. I know you can take care of yourself but I don’t see you that way, Pete! You’re my friend and all I could see was my friend putting himself in danger for me. I was…” you tremble…”I was…scared,” you admit. Curling into his bare chest and he holds onto you even tighter. He hums and shushes you.

“It’s okay. I’m here for you. I’ll always protect you. I’ll always follow you like a creep, I promise,” his comment elicits a small chuckle from you both. He tries to lay you down but you cling to him. Eventually, you release him, allowing him to strip out of his spider-suit and into a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt he’s likely left behind in the past.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whimper as he climbs back onto the bed with you and opens his arms again. “Don’t leave me. Don’t be like him.” Peter’s chest fills with a sharp intake of breath. He’s solid and stable, enveloping you in his warmth and comfort.

“Never. I’ll never leave you. I’ll always be there. As your friendly neighborhood Spider-man and as your best friend.” Peter kisses the top of your head. “I’ll make sure nothing ever happens to you.”

A moment of silence passes as you relax and your tears of shock dry on your cheeks.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Peter’s arms encircle you even more, cuddling you.

“Of course.”

* * *

Your mother comes home tired and ready to crawl into bed, but not before she has pancakes with you.

She peeks into your room and sees Peter sleeping next to you. She doesn’t say anything.

She naps on the couch until you wake up on your own and when only you come out of your room she asks, “Will Peter be joining us?”

She doesn’t say much more, doesn’t question his presence at the dining table as he stuffs his mouth with chocolate chip pancakes. She knows he’ll always be here for you. That’s all she could’ve ever hoped for.


End file.
